#I do not know if I'm capable of turning this into a proper pattern

[mrvelocipede]

me: Hm, I have an idea for a textured stitch pattern I could use on a sock. A nice, basic sock with some texture, yep.

me: The beginning of the round makes a jog in my repeating texture, which annoys me. I could add a narrow vertical stripe, just a couple of stitches, ribbing maybe, to make the break in the pattern look like an intentional design feature. It's still pretty simple, though.

me: Actually this vertical stripe should be a little wider, more of a decorative panel, so I can put some cable-y things on it.

me: Now I need to decide how to end the textured section, and make a transition into plain stockinette for the foot.

me: plain stockinette is boring, I think it needs a little border just before the toe.

an outside observer, looking at my nearly-finished sock: This looks like it was constructed by Gian Lorenzo Bernini to be installed in the Vatican.

[juvenillia]

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 14: weak

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

a/n: did we needed another filler chapter to build up some emotions, yes we did. Just read and enjoy, the next chapter will be different and we finally start building the main plot hehe [I know that keegan is another timeline but I wanted him to be there]

CW/TW: mentions of insecurity, guilt, shame, fluff, angst, violence, the usual stuff

wordcount: 2.3k

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"Sir, with all my respect, you can't be serious?!", you looked shocked and with disbelief at Price. "That's nothing to discuss. You aren't in a state of heading out " Price's usual soft voice turned completely stoic. Looking with a stern face and you knew you couldn't convince him otherwise. "Rog’.", you answered defeated and went off for the common room. It was a few days after you returned to the base, and everything felt kind of normal. Well, at least the most. What wasn't normal was the amount of awareness people - your teammates - showed you.

You literally felt like you were a little weak child because everything they suggested let you feel like you were made from glass. Ghost wouldn't let you go to the gym, especially not alone. So, he made sure you didn't strain yourself and the still fresh wounds. Johnny wouldn't let you eat alone. Making sure you ate enough, and rations with enough nutrition. Kyle would make sure, that you didn't have to do any paperwork at all, using this time rather for proper rest. And now Price didn’t even allow you on the next mission was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

You sat on the couch, an annoyed expression on your face, while Johnny looked concerned at you. "Bonnie what's wrong?" - "Does something hurt? Need us to get something for you?", Kyle joined leaning a bit forward. "Could you just stop treating me like a baby. God damn.", you cried out while immediately standing up again. Your Lieutenant just walked through the door and looked as concerned as Johnny at your figure. By now you were quite able to read his expression from his eyes. It wasn't that hard, because to be honest, his eyes were actually highly expressive. "And you, don't you even start Lieutenant. I'm capable of taking care of my own. So fucking stop it.", you point your finger at him before stomping out back to your barracks. Maybe it was unfair to react that way, they only wanted to help, to take care of you, but at this point it only annoyed you. You were a soldier, just like them. As Ghost caught the bullet nobody even cared about him going the gym the next morning or even heading out to the next mission. But you? You were treated like a rookie who was new to all that and it made you sick. You accepted Price's decision, but not the way you were treated by the boys. It was too much. They always saw you as equal, why not now?

That way you actually relaxed as they head out to the mission you were excluded from. Sure, you told them to take care and come back save, but you finally had some peace. Well, this relaxed feeling didn't stay long. The first day was calm. You could finally go to the gym without the scolding voice of Ghost lecturing you about the workout you wanted to do. You met with one of the Sergeants, the one that already recommended some training sessions to you before. He didn't know about your injuries and therefore you could finally push your limits again. Not to overdo it of course, you knew your body and your limits. And you still had the harsh voice of Ghost in the back of your head. Afterwards you went to take care of some of the new gathered intel. Trying to draw patterns and fulfilling some tasks Price left you. The first night was restful. It was no miracle though, after you could finally exhaust your body again. The second day felt already off. You went to your morning run and neither Ghost or Soap did approach you and adjusted their pace to yours. You simply ran in silent. That was the first time you started to miss them. Until Keegan met your glance and you kind of challenged each other in running. You didn't last long though, the wound in your left abdomen still sending pulsating pain down your legs. But you'd be able to push you further day by day. But the pain in your chest also raised to each day. You weren't greeted by a blissful Gaz as you passed the common room. No new tea was spilled as you head to the canteen in now found silence. There was no Ghost at the table, already finished with his meal but still waiting for the two of you to approach.

Everything felt utterly weird without them around. It was almost confusing how you already grew so attached to the little things those men around you provided. At least you knew that the mission shouldn't take too long. Price assured you it would be about three days, and then they would be back and discuss everything further. But going after your routine at the base without them made you feel somehow lonely.

Sometimes it made you feel guilty, guilty that you moved on so easily. Shoving your previous team out of your mind. But you didn't. Nearly every day you thought about them. Especially Droplet and Kabuki, now, after the talk with König, of course as well about König and Meg. They were your family, and they would always stay that. But you couldn't deny that you already grew highly attached to the 141 as well. At this point you questioned your whole emotional base. Did you changed so much, that you could easily find someone new? A new family? Or were these four men so damn special? You couldn't tell. A question you couldn't answer, but you didn't care. You knew your world turned upside down since you joined them.

You sat here on your usual spot in the common area at the third day and still heard nothing from the team. That's when you started to become unsettled. The day passed by, and it grew long, and the night even longer. By the fifths day you couldn’t sleep at all. What would be if something happened? Something that you could have prevented. All those thoughts out dribbling themselves. You smoked more than usual, were restless pacing through your room. The most time of the day you spent in the office going after clues and patterns. Your mind wasn't able to settle. Nothing could grant you some peace of mind. Keegan spend more time with you, when you shuffled through the halls, trying to ease your mood a bit. It worked only the slightest. You weren't close, still you appreciated his company. But after all you felt nothing than truly weak by now.

You were at the seventh day without proper sleep. Your body was exhausted, you fell into small naps, but they gave you nothing than more headaches. Meanwhile the boys did finally enter the helicopter that brought them home. Exhausted heads, drained limbs, and tired eyes, but satisfied of what they've achieved. Kyle and Price were in the front and Johnny next to Ghost. Soap let his head fall back against the cold metal and smiled satisfied. That smile growing smug as his eyes caught Ghost starring at his phone. He had your contact open, searching for a message but there was none. You didn't reach out to them because you knew it was nonsense. Ghost knew as well, but still he hoped to get a sign that you were okay and waiting for him, wait no, for them. "Already missing her, eh, Lt?", Johnny poked his elbow in his side and Ghost immediately shoved the phone away and stared in the distant in front of him. "Och, c'mon.", Johnny's voice became a bit more teasingly. "To be honest, it was weird without her.", Gaz stated from the front. "Aye. Definitive. Cannae wait to see that brawl face again.", the Scot smiled full of mischief. Ghost only growled low. "You like her a bit too much, Soap.", Kyle exhaled, and Price only laughed. He laughed because he knew what Johnny tried to do but he didn't intervene. He had his own fun watching from afar and letting things come naturally. Waiting for the right moment when he really needed to intervene.

When the boys arrived at the base it was already dark outside. The sun had set some time ago and they were all off to their rooms, stuffing their belongings back where they were before, taking a highly anticipated shower and meeting in the common room. Everyone was quick with their tasks to find some rest in their usual spots in the meant room. Only Price was missing.

You found him as you walked to get yourself another coffee and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. "Cap!", you exhaled and ran over to him. He smiled softly at you. "You're back! Is everyone... "- "Everything is fine. We were met with some troubling circumstances, but we sorted it out.", he stated with his usual soft but firm smile. "I'm glad.", you exhaled, finally feeling your mind settling. "How are you, Skadi?" - "As fit as a fiddle." - "Good. I need to talk to you about something. Let's head to my office. Shall we?" You looked a bit confused at him, it was already late, they just came back, and he already needed something to discuss but you shouldn't be the person to judge. That's what your life in the military was always like. So, you followed him to the office and that way you could explain what you've found out during their absence.

After some talking you and Price joined the other in the common room and every ounce of stress that was still in your body left as you saw the relaxed figures of your team. "Welcome back, lads.", you said firmly, but happy while taking your by now usual spot at the bigger couch next to Ghost. Closer than usual, close enough that if you moved an inch more to your right, you could simply sit in his lap. Not that you wanted that, no, that would totally be inappropriate. "Are yer alright? Look exhausted.", Johnny looks at you with his tired but still joyful eyes. "I am fine.", you reassure them before they fell in their usual talks and chats. Of course, you're a bit nervous of what Price have told you but that could wait till tomorrow. Now you only wanted to ease the stress of the last days. To enjoy the company, you missed so much.

Simon felt the same. Some time ago his balaclava and a fag would do the comforting after a long and draining mission. Then later it was listening to Soap and Gaz brag about everything that happened during the operation and now. Now your presence, your smile took such a huge part in comforting him. It scared him as much as he embraced it. He was caught off guard when he suddenly felt a weight against him. Johnny abruptly stopped his talking and only looked in awe over. Price did chuckle the slightest while not averting his gaze and Kyle just kept talking, like nothing happened.

You knew that feeling to well. The comfort of the people you held dear around you. The safety for you to finally accept your weakness and just drift away. A feeling you were way too familiar with. Something the four of your former team could easily provide you with. The echoing of their laughter and talks, the warmth of the man next to you. It gave you something the silence of your own room never could. It gave you peace. Peace, you thought you lost back then. But somehow you found it again. You found it in the dramatical way Johnny told a story. In the way Kyle would mock him all the time, while Price laughter echoed through the room. And the way Simon sat next to you, a familiar warmth provided by his sheer presence. It made you feel safe and sound.

As Simon looked to his left, he could see your figure, once again deep asleep, but this time leaning against him. Your head comfortable resting against his statue. Sunken too low to lay on his shoulder, still comforting nuzzled against him. He could feel the warmth radiating from your body. Your chest slowly heaven. He was glad that he chose a hoodie for today. He couldn't bear the feeling of your soft cheeks against his skin. It would drive him mad. He cut out all his surroundings, his complete focus only laying onto your sleeping figure. He was also more than glad to wear his mask. The smug face of Johnny during the flight was already enough for him. Simon didn't want to give Soap the satisfaction of seeing the blush that creeped over his face. He wasn't used to this, so he didn't dare to move even a millimeter. Too scared he could wake you up, too scared you could move away from him. He liked the feeling of the warmth you provided. A feeling that went under his skin. He hated himself for interrupting all of that while carrying you to your quarters once more. He hated the feeling inside his stomach as he saw your adorable features, and the little gasps that left your lips when he tugged you under the covers of your bed. But he mostly hated his inner urge to just lay down next to you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him. He couldn't let himself show such a weakness. Because that's what you made him feel, weak.

taglist open just lmk

@yyiikes @saffronimagines @originaldeerhottub @illuminwtesz @killergoddess97 @kaelaiscool @spiritndrain @anothersimpsblog

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I'm always down bad for those L boys so what about a blurb with Lucien and a day court fae who lives at the palace showing him around ?

Or Lorcans SO helping him through a bad night?

Inner demons

Lorcan had learned to keep his emotions at bay. To see the tide rising yet find ways to keep it motionless. Lorcan wasn’t doing this because he didn’t trust you with the darkest parts of him. Quite the opposite. There wasn’t a part of him that he hadn’t given to you or shown you. You knew his ways and for most of it, you managed to look past it. But… now Lorcan was the one who saw parts of him that scared him. Scared him because he wasn’t sure if he could live with himself if he ever harmed you. If the dark side of him hurt you. So when bubbling inside would get too much he would flee. Disappear for a couple of days. Force himself out of your shared home. Swallowing the guilt because he kept telling himself that he was doing the right thing. The only thing he could do.

You knew that breaking an oath was a dangerous thing. You knew that the absence of it hung there like a broken limb. All of them had withdrawal symptoms from time to time. As if the spirit of Maeve itself still hunted them, still tried to claim them. You also weren’t stupid. You had noticed a pattern in it too. The day it was broken, like a yearly reminder, had them all ridged and prickly. Well most of them. And most of them being Lorcan.

He had changed a lot since the first time you two had met. His cunning and cold way had turned soft and fuzzy in places. He craved your warmth. The knowledge of someone seeing beneath his mask. The hope of being heard. Of not being labeled for once and you gave him that. It’s the demons within him that didn’t bend to your love. The only thing still keeping Lorcan from fully being yours. Slowly sabotaging the love blossoming. Trying to crush the delicate petals.

The moon was high up in the sky and Lorcan still wasn’t home. You knew that he preferred you not waiting up for him especially on the night when he had been roaming through the woods for hours like a grim reaper. But you couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t watch him pulling himself apart at night and pretending that it all was well in the morning. The patio outside creaked and yet you knew that he had rested even before that.

Quickly getting up from the sofa you wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself as you walked closer to the door only to find Lorcan’s back turned to you. His posture is alert. His back muscles tensed beneath his black leather. “Lor…”, you called out softly, stepping closer. “Go to the bedroom and lock the door”, his voice was low. You halted but didn’t turn away from him. “Don’t make me tell you again”, he growled through gritted teeth.

“No”, you breathed out. “Y/N it’s not a time to play”, you could tell that he wasn’t asking. It was an order but you had grown tired of losing him to his past. “I’m staying with you”, you started firmly, stepping even closer. Lorcan’s breathing got labored, nearly panting. “You are safe with me, safe here…”, the moment your hand touched his arm, Lorcan turned, grabbing your wrist. His hold wasn’t necessarily painful but enough to be a warning.

A slight gasp left your lips as your eyes fell on his black eyes. Dark vanes branching all across his skin. Fangs out. You’ve seen his darkness but had never seen it take control over him like that. Your free hand softly reached up to cup his cheek, “You can take the control back”, you muttered, “You have the power, not the magic”.

“You don’t know shit”, Lorcan snarled, trying to turn away from you once more. “But I know you, Lorcan”, you whispered, “there’s love and light within you”, brushing your fingers over his heart you tried to catch his eyes. “I kill. I’ve killed with these hands”, he growled, “I destroy not…”, “We made love. There’s love between us. Don’t you think that’s one of the signs that you’re capable of more?”, you asked. Transitioning to a proper life after Maeve was hard for him. He valued his soldier status but Maeve's ways weren’t Aelin’s ways.

“What if I’m just playing you?”, he mocked but you heard the edge of pain there. That the words itself hurt him leaving his mouth. “Look me in the eye and say it straight to my face, Lorcan”, your fingers cupped his chin, “Tell me that this is nothing and I'm just a play…”, “Don’t, no”, his hands came to the side of his head, as he practically whaled. You knew that he loved you. There was no denying it. As much as the feeling scared him, Lorcan equally felt helpless within you in his life.

“Don’t leave me, please”, he muttered, falling to his knees, hands holding onto your hips, pressing his face into your stomach. Your hands instantly moved to his long black hair as you softly scratched his scalp. “Who said I was leaving, my love?”, you muttered. “You deserve better”, Lorcan breathed yet his grip on you didn’t ease. “You deserve to know your worth”, you stated, gently guiding him to look up at you. “Dark sides, bloody claws, all of it, and you are still the love of my life, Lor”, you cupped his cheeks, “Cause I know your heart and it’s beautiful”, you muttered, bending slightly so you could kiss his forehead. “I don’t deserve you, dove”, he breathed as you draped the blanket you had around you over his shoulders. “You deserve love, lots of it actually”, you stated, “Now come, let me draw you a bath, braid your hair”, you pulled at his arm, helping Lorcan stand, “Let me remind you just how much I care”.

[slycooperconfessions]

This isn't a confession, I just wanted to have a discussion about this because I'm curious to see if anyone else feels the same way. Does anyone else feel like Sly 4 sort of retroactively lowered your opinion of Sly 3? Because I've realized a lot of the poor writing decisions in Sly 4 stem directly from flaws in Sly 3's own writing. For example, I hated the villain twist with Penelope in Sly 4. But I've actually seen a few people defending it, saying that Penelope was always kind of sketchy with her whole Black Baron persona. And to be honest, they're kind of not wrong. Sly 3 never really did give us much of an explanation for why the hell Penelope acts so different as the Baron. Honestly, as the Baron she's fucking RUTHLESS. She's willing to cheat and kill to win, is capable of fist fighting Sly on the wing of a moving plane, etc. Yet afterwards she acts all sweet, helpless and innocent and gets used as a damsel in distress multiple times, despite us seeing her combat capabilities as the Baron? Begrudgingly, I can kind of see how Sanzaru (or anyone else) could get the impression that there's something "off" about her.

I also hated the Carmelita belly dancing bit in Sly 4 and thought it was fucking gross. But to be honest, Sly 3 itself sort of set a precedent for treating Carmelita this way. "Carmelargea" from the Rumble Down Under level was maybe less overtly sexual but no less gross. They literally had us climbing up her pants for that fight. You can't look at that and tell me someone on the Sly 3 dev team didn't have a giantess fetish. So them skimping on giving Rumble Down Under a proper antagonist just so that they could instead have the Mask of Dark Earth as an excuse to enlarge Carmelita is... pretty sleazy, actually.

Then there was the whole Sly faking amnesia thing. During Sly 4 I couldn't help but feel like Carmelita was being a little hypocritical for her anger at being lied to by Sly. She literally lied too. She lied to someone she thought was an amnesiac about his identity. Which just sort of highlights how bad the end of Sly 3 is. They decided to have Sly and Carmelita start off their new relationship based on lies? Ok then.

I'm not sure if I would go so far as to say that Sly 4 changed my opinion of Sly 3, but there are some valid points here.

As far as Penelope's huge personality shift from the Baron to her normal self, I think it was partly to throw people off of the reveal that the Baron IS Penelope. Hell, Penelope even helps the gang in Episode 3 by defending their hangar from goons looking to wreck their plane, whereas the Baron seems to have no issues with foul play and engages in it often. Thinking about it deeper, the Baron might have become a full-fledged alternate personality for Penelope since she was using the ruse so often and got pumped up by people treating him as a celebrity. When she gets some sense slapped into her after fighting Sly, I think it snapped her out of this pattern and she was able to let it go. As far has how strong the Baron is, there's theories that the Baron suit is actually a cybernetic situation that greatly enhances her physical abilities, which I think holds water because her natural abilities are more tailored to her technical know-how and inventions. Once she abandons the Baron suit, she abandons the raw strength and ruthlessness the Baron gave her. I've held the opinion that her turning more villainous in Sly 4 is not necessarily out of nowhere, it was just written horribly and abruptly IMO. There's nothing we see leading up to it that makes it make sense, it just happens. Had it been handled differently, I think it would have been received much better.

As far as giant Carmelita...yeah, I got nothing. Probably a case of the "writer's poorly disguised fetish" meme because I remember being 11 years old thinking "This is...odd." But by then I had also developed an attraction to both Sly and Carmelita, so I rolled with it lol.

What do y'all think?

[dinthoqaf]

How does one go about meeting you anyways? Not that I'm hiding in the shadows, nope. But you know... curiosity never killed the cat right? RIGHT???

The Defiler sits at his station, a writing desk of dark cherry wood that seems to be stained with a variety of different inks in spill patterns that offer to make the wood grain all the darker. A tome flutters nearby with a quill that writes down whatever it was Dinthoqaf had been tasking it to write. How it knows? A magical mystery between Reality (The name of his quill.) and himself. A quiet sip of the cup of tea comes before he looks away from the words being written. "It varies from person to person, my arrivals and departures." He turns at the waist, setting the cup down before looking back to his tome as it was worked upon. "Reaching me isn't some horrific secret really, it's more so a point on whether the person reaching out to me is worth the effort to break what I'm doing to go meet with." A smile forms, methodical in its creation as if it was an invitation of some sort. "For those incapable of magical acts, as alien as that may sound, a letter titled 'The Sanctum' via standard mail actually makes it to me. From there, The Nameless will remove your letter from circulation and examine it before it's passed on for me to open and then read. After all, some of you fine individuals have tried to use that same system to track us down and we can't have that..." The grin grows into a wry grin. "Now, if you are magically capable, the easiest and fastest way to reach me is through blood, and the more there is, the more I'm able to offer proper lines of communication. With this blood, draw a rune akin to this." The elf draws in the air with his fingertips in a singular motion with no overlapping, a crimson line left behind in the air for a faint moment before it disappears, meaning to be memorized.

( Apologies, drew this some time ago and never bothered to convert or change it to anything to make it look nicer. )

"I should clarify, that success increases dramatically if you do this with your own blood and mana put into action, not animal blood or someone else's. But, once you have this, simply communicate your desire to speak with me, akin to that of a prayer." The Defiler turns, facing forward as his fingers interlace with one another before he mutters something incomprehensible. The air shutters as if a magical act had been tried, but failed. "Of course, it won't work with me trying to communicate with myself, that'd just be absurd." That grin returns to his face once again before he straightens up and returns his teacup to hand and the Reality continues to write upon itself. "Those are the two easiest methods... I suppose you could go the boring way and just happen to find me out in public if I'm at some sort of formal affair rubbing elbow and shoulder with people who need favors that I can offer, but where's the fun in that?"

(Thank you for asking Anon! On a personal note, if someone is looking for me, my messages and inbox are always open and I'm also open to communicating via Discord if it's a preferred/easier outlet! I just don't put out my discord name publically here for obvious reasons. I'm also open to IC interactions in-game too as those are always wonderful!)

[queen-mihai]

"Hey Vardeen! Why don't you watch where you're goin!"

The immense creature turned, natural armor glistening in the flickering light of the dining facility.

"I am Werloccke, Staff Sergeant Hall. I am a Vardeen warrior, and you will address me with the proper respect. I shouldn't commune in such a manner were I so...squishy"

"Izzat your idea of a threat, Werloccke? Listen, bud; they's *bugs* on our planet got better armor than you. How 'bout you get back to cleanin' the chow hall?"

The Vardeen warrior leaned forward, pounded his forward appendages on the ground, and roared. "You do not issue commands to the Vardeen!" Some servicemembers in the mess hall looked up from their meals.

Staff Sergeant Hall smiled and waved his hands before his nose. "hooo boy! Your breath is kicking!" He then looked quizzically between Werloccke's rows of razor sharp teeth.

"Why do you have a ring on one of your teeth?"

Ssgt Hall reached into the warriors mouth and retrieved a small, ornate gunmetal ring. He held it up to Werloccke with a raised eyebrow. He slipped it into his finger and proclaimed "perfect fit"

The entire room fell silent.

The Vardeen warrior dropped to a seated position, glaring at the human sergeant. "You... you just..." He stood and started towards the exit, nearly collapsing a load-bearing column on his way out of the dining hall.

Captain Jalek gracefully strode over to the Sergeant on insectoid limbs. "Did you... just reach into the mouth of a Vardeen warrior?"

"He had this on his teeth, I wanted ta know what it is"

"Well, I'll admit." Your commanders were right that you'd surprise me. Tell me Sergeant, what do you know of the Vardeen culture?"

Staff Sergeant Hall rattled off a near verbatim recitation of the Vardeen homeworld description from his copy of "Human spacefaring for the modern military man"

"Yes yes. Quite correct. Tell me, does your manual mention anything of noteoutside of battlefield; Sergeant?"

"Sadly, no"

"Mmhmm. And how do you feel about commander Werloccke?"

"Oh he knows we're just jokin' around," Ssgt Hall stated. "We play like that all the time. Dude's amazing. Kickass even, I love that guy"

The captain held her foreclaws to her mandibles and her eyes went wide. She breathed deep before she spoke. "Sergeant, I order you to take the rest of the day off. Find commander Werloccke at once."

"Wait what did I do? I know I'm no stranger to the odd social faux-pas.."

Captain Jalek softened her military demeanor, "Oh you dear thing.. You've never heard of the sixty-five steps of the Vardeen court, have you?"

"Werloccke talks about it sometimes. Says we're on a new number once in a while, I never knew what all that meant"

Had Captain Jalek's eyes been capable of tears, the next moment made it obvious they'd be welling up in this moment. Instead, she reached her foreclaws out and wrapped them around ssgt Hall's shoulders.

"Human"

It had been a while since anyone other than Werloccke had called "Staff Sergeant Hall" or "Sergeant" being called "human" broke him out of whatever thought pattern he'd been thinking.

"This is important. What number did he say you were on last?"

"Uh... sixty-four I think. Why? It's some type of warriors court thing, right? I know I talk a lot of trash, but me and Werloccke are super tight one on one"

The captains mandibles twitched. "The sixty-five steps are part of the Vardeen courting ritual, Sergeant. You just completed step number sixty-five. You just proposed. Quite valiantly, I might add. Good show"

"Wait... I didn't mean t....ooohhhhhh. well that may explain a few things. But wait what was step number sixty-five?"

"You fearlessly removed the ring from his teeth during a Vardeen show of aggression. You also placed the ring on your finger, and proclaimed your love for him for all to see." The captain straightened. "You must speak with him at once. I will see to your wedding arrangements personally."

"Well I'm certainly not about to argue with a day off. I guess I'll go find my fiancée"

[This idea has been rattling in my brain and I had to share it.]

I know we all love the ‘humans are space orcs’ concept… but imagine, onboard the new ship they’ve been assigned to, the human meets an actual space orc. A massive monster… fangs and tusks and scars and a battle-hardened stare, looming over all the other life forms on the ship in its thick indestructible armour it refuses to remove. It barely drinks, it doesn’t need sleep, its massive shoulders are heavy with the terrible things it has experienced. Compared to the squishy & delicate human body, this thing is a walking tank.

… Except instead of hating/ignoring one another, the human and the monster start bonding over both coming from death planets. The human is excited to find a life form who doesn’t quiver with fear at the vague description of a jellyfish and the monster is ecstatic to meet someone who understands the feeling of being bitten by a qua’lem (cats are pretty close). They sit together and compare dangerous animals and locations as the other aliens look on in confusion and fear… oh, you also have dense jungles of deadly hidden predators, boiling acid lakes, tamed predatory killers, and areas with horrendously high and low temperatures? Sick!! 

It doesn’t take long before the two of them become totally inseparable. The human loves not feeling like some kind of crazy outsider and the monster is overjoyed they’ve finally found an equal in this unkillable marshmallow.

Monster: When I was a youngling, a grol-lik stung straight through my armour. The pain lasted for approximately 16 human hours. Human: Oh yeah man, I get that. As a kid I got a wasp stuck in my shirt. It stung me like four times, it was awful, and all my cousins just laughed at me… Monster: [using their arm screen to research human courting methods] I see.

[fullsheepgardener]

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pretend luggage

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[tangledinink]

Chapter Ten of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up! :0 Betraying my system and posting one chapter early because it was one of my favorites to write and I'm excited... the boys return to school for the first time in a while, and, of course, it goes VERY well... read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

(cw: depictions of panic attacks, a lil bit of blood and fighting)

Oh god. He could not do this. What was he thinking? What were any of them thinking?! This was going to be a complete disaster. 

Leo's sneakers were still pointed in the direction of the school, and he was walking towards it, but he wanted oh so desperately to turn tail and run. He wouldn't. He wasn't gonna back out or ditch his family... but oh pizza supreme in the sky did he want to. 

He really, really hoped that this was worth it.

They had all agreed to the plan days ago, discussing it at length and reviewing the pros and cons. And when they had that original conversation, Leo had been all for it! It seemed like a good idea when Donnie pitched it... at the time. 

"Right. So. As you all know, I've been doing some research on the mystic artifacts that we recovered from Dad's room. There's not a ton I can find online, which I was expecting, but I've been doing some analysis on the actual items themselves and some of the readings they're giving, and--"

"You found something?" Raph interrupted, his eyes widening. Donnie had hesitated.

"Well. Not exactly," they had explained, wincing a bit. "There is definitely a pattern in what I'm seeing, and it seems like most mystic energy has a particular molecular build, if you will, so to speak. I mean, it's really not quite as simple as that, it sort of is less molecular and more next-to-molecular... It's pretty fascinating, actually, I mean, I can't imagine that anyone would notice these kinds of signatures unless they were actively looking for them, it’s really on detectable via--"

"Donnie!"

"Right. Sorry. The point is, I have a foundation. I have the buildings of an equation here, but I don't have any values to input into it yet, so I can't do anything with it. And that," they swiveled in their desk chair to point, grinning big. "Is where Mikey comes in."

They had all turned to look at their youngest brother, who absolutely beamed in response, oozing sunshine in a way Leo hadn't seen in nearly two weeks. 

"Did you guys know he can see auras?"

"I'm sorry, he can what?" Raph echoed.

"Well, 'aura' is the placeholder term I'm using for ease of communication at the moment. I'll label it with a proper term later. Mikey likes to call them ‘life colors.’ But the point is, according to Mikey, at least from what he can tell, pretty much everyone in the world has a unique 'life color.' I wasn’t really sure if I was gonna be able to go anywhere with this at first, but after discussing it at length and running a few tests, I’m fairly certain it is, in fact, a measurable mystic quality that I could figure out how to sample. So, in other words, a unique signature. In other other words..."

 Donnie had paused, expecting someone to finish the sentence. His family stared at him blankly. Donnie huffed a bit in annoyance, rolling his eyes.

"In other words, gentleman, (and April,) we have our values. If we know that everyone has a unique 'life color' signature associated with them, in addition to knowing that mystical energy itself has a unique signature associated with it, and if I’m able to detect and read both these signatures with my tech, I can, theoretically, generate a tracking algorithm capable of sweeping and zeroing in on these specific data points, and--"

"And you can find Dad!" Raph finished the sentence this time, his eyes absolutely alight. Wait, really!? They had a lead? They had a lead! Leo had all but jumped up from his seat on Donnie’s bed, bounding over to join his twin at their computer. 

"Alright, Dee! I knew you could do it!" He cheered. "So what are we waiting for!? Let's go get Dad already!"

"Well," Donnie held up his hands, and Leo paused. Wait, well? What was the problem?

"I can generate a tracking algorithm and software with a margin of error. And right now, the data pool we're working with is not especially impressive," Donnie muttered, turning back to the monitors and gesturing to a bunch of charts and numbers that none of them understood. They had all gathered and leaned in to look anyway. "As it stands, anything I build will likely not be especially accurate, if it works at all. I've already spent some time with it, and it turns out that there are... a lot of people in New York City," he said dryly. "Which makes this difficult."

 "Then... what do we do?" April questioned, frowning.

 Mikey had grinned, puffing out his chest. "We get more data!"

Leo had originally suggested that they just go camp in Times Square and people-watch, and collect a shit-ton of data that way, but as Donnie had explained it, it wasn't quite so simple. Just inputting the life colors of random people from off the street wasn't really going to train the AI he was coding to do much of anything. The software he was hoping to build wasn't going to have the same 'gift' as Mikey, and wouldn't be able to just 'see' people's life colors. They'd have to teach it how to do so by associating 'colors' with other data points, such as blood type, birthdays, thermo-magnetic signatures, and a bunch of other fancy words Leo didn't recognize, in order to try to find a pattern that could be used to identify and track such things. So it could learn to ‘see’ life colors on its own. In other words, they could only use the 'life colors' of people who they could find again and collect further data on. People who they could reliably locate over a period of time. People who they were able to access other records for...

And Donnie could hack into the school's database in his sleep. So.

Here they were.

At the time, it had seemed like a reasonable plan. Go to school, Mikey can collect a list of kids and their life colors, Donnie pulls data from the school's records, and the rest of them fill in the blanks with whatever weird tests Donnie said they needed. They were all sneaky enough that they could scan a kid's magnetic energy or whatever incognito. It was a good plan. They had even managed to convince Carol that they were ready to go back to school after several long conversations, insisting that staying home and not seeing any of their friends were just making things worse, etc etc.

But oh my god. Now they were here, walking up to the building, and all Leo could think was this is a horrible idea. He kept trying to tell himself maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe not that many kids knew, maybe no one was gonna say anything, but who was he kidding? He was sure the whole ass school had taken notice of their two-week absence and knew perfectly well by now that their dad was missing. It had only been circulating through the news and every social media platform that had ever existed on repeat since it happened. 

Everyone was gonna be looking at him with those sad, sorry-for-you eyes that he couldn't stand. It was gonna be awkward. And he was not even a little bit excited about it.  Dammit, he had had his phone on 'do not disturb' for the past two weeks for exactly this reason. 

But he had said he would do it. So. 

Here they were.

"Alright," Raph said, turning to face the rest of the group, just outside of the front doors. Leo could already feel other kids watching them. He thought back to his and Mikey's conversation that one time when they went to gymnastics. How things were normal, but also weren't at all, and just let them all in the lurch in this uncanny-valley sort of space. "We all know the game plan?"

"Yes sir," they all responded, though not with quite enthusiasm or coordination as they usually did. Leo could tell that everyone was nervous. I mean, jesus. He couldn't blame them.

"Alright," Raph bit the insides of his cheeks. Also nervous. "Everyone keep your phones on. And text the group chat if anything happens. We can always leave if we gotta, I mean, if you guys wanna go home--"

"Oh-ho-ho!" Leo remarked with a grin. "What happened to ‘no skipping class?’"

"Leo--"

"This is a great change of pace," he continued, desperate to break the tension. "But don't worry! We're gonna be fine-- we got this! And if anything happens, we'll just ninja our way out of here, no problem."

"No, if anything happens, we call April's mom to pick us up--"

"Same thing! We've got this one-thousand percent until control. Right, Magic Mike?" Leo teased, nudging his brother, who forced a half-hearted grin in response. "See? He's all over it. Okay, now what's that thing Raph always says? Don’t do anything Raph wouldn’t do? Don't be late to class? That thing! Everyone go do that!" He said, grabbing Donnie by the hand and promptly marching off. 

Oh, he could feel the eyes on the back of his head. But soooo worth it to end the awkward, anxious air. If this was what the entire day was gonna be like, he wasn't gonna make it. He could tell you that right now.

He wasn't sure Donnie was, either. Was he, like, legit shaking? Crap. Okay, come on. We can fix this.

"I mean it, you know," he said, slowing his pace slightly and releasing his grip, shifting into an easy stride next to his twin rather than dragging them along behind him. "You've got this, Dee. If anyone can figure out this whole mess, it's you, right? Once Mikey has all that data stuff, we'll be all set."

"Yeah..." Donnie said, not sounding anywhere near as confident as Leo was used to, staring down at his boots. Aw, man. 

"Oh, come on. Where's your enthusiasm? Where's the brother I know and love?" Leo bade, elbowing him slightly, but failing to make any actual physical contact with him. He had already pushed it by grabbing his hand, no need to pile on top of that... "Where's your... your thing! Your emotionless passion!"

"Here," Donnie mumbled in a tone just barely one step above a whine, hunching his shoulders slightly. "It's fine. I do have this. Today is just gonna suck." 

Leo sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 "... Yeah. I know. We just gotta... get through it. Keep our heads down, muscle through, and once today is over, it's over. No biggie!"

Even he didn't believe it. Regardless, the pair made their way to homeroom-- though at an admittedly much slower pace than usual, with no racing, jumping, leaping, or flipping. It almost felt foreign, and Leo was half tempted to tag his brother and take off running. Muscle memory begged him to. But he knew that neither of them really felt up for it, and besides, the last thing they needed were even more eyes on them. Leo tried to emit his very best, 'do not look at me, talk to me, or fuck with me,' vibes as they entered the classroom, sticking close to his twin. That wasn't usually his forte-- it was more Donnie's, if anything-- but it was at least enough to ward off the masses until the first official bell of the day rang.

Leo's stomach was in absolute fucking knots. 'Cause he knew that he had geometry first period in the upper east wing of the school... and Donnie had history in the west. 

For a moment, he felt like a second grader again, terrified of his twin brother moving on without him and leaving him behind to go to school all by himself. He swallowed hard, lingering in the hallway just long enough to give Donnie a grin and sign a reassurance that he could text him if anything happened. Donnie had frowned, nodded, and they had parted. 

It did not feel good. 

He was trying to talk himself down from the ledge, resisting the urge to run after his brother and tackle him and cling to him, like, no, don't leave me alone!, when he rounded the corner and caught sight of a face across the hall that made him freeze.

"Leo!" Chase immediately called out when they made eye contact.

Dammit. He knew he was forgetting something. Actually, you know what? Fuck geometry. Who needs geometry? Leo made an immediate about-face, spinning on his heels and going exactly back the way he just came. Opting out of this conversation, thank you very much. 

"Leo!" He heard his despite-not-talking-in-literally-two-weeks-technically-still-boyfriend shout from behind him again, no doubt in pursuit, and Leo cursed in every language that he knew, picking up the pace. No no no no. He was so not in the mood for this. This was the last thing he needed. He barely even liked Chase that much on, like, a good day, he was just kinda cute and had decent taste in music! He had no intention of discussing any bit of, like, this whole situation with him. 

Gymnastics lessons, don't fail me now. Leo ducked and weaved past students as fast as he dared, dancing around, over, and occasionally through them, not really caring that much if he bumped or elbowed anyone. Sorry, he had priorities! A quick glance over his shoulder told him that, no, somehow, he still had not lost Chase, who was, in fact, living up to his name at the moment, and oh my god, was he panicking? He was pretty sure he was panicking, great, cool, no problem! Let's run with it! Mikey said that feeling emotions was healthy or whatever, and wow, was he feeling it!

 He nearly wiped out a couple of freshmen as he flung himself around a corner and down a side hall, his sneakers sliding noisily against the linoleum as he all but smacked into the nearest door he could find. Okay, running wasn't working, how about hiding? Just had to duck away somewhere for a minute and lay low, and it'd all be fine, and he wouldn't have to deal with this or talk about any of this or talk to him--

 He blanched when the door failed to budge. What?! No, no, no, come on! Open, you've gotta open! He glanced around frantically for an alternative exit plan, but there was nothing around that he'd be able to get to before Chase caught up.

 "Come on. Come on. Open, open, open, move, dammit, move--" He hissed under his breath, rearing back before shoving against the door with his entire weight.

 He yelped in surprise when he fell flat on his face, gravel stinging his cheeks and shifting beneath him, a shocking blast of icy cold wind cutting through him like a knife. What the--? Leo sat up quickly, brushing the dirt and pebbles from himself with a splutter as he glanced around at his surroundings.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

The good news was that he had lost Chase. 

Bad news was that he was on the roof. 

Okay... so we can definitely rule out sleepwalking.

---

Donnie had learned years ago, though admittedly a bit later than most, that the internet couldn't always be trusted. He knew by now that it wasn't reasonable to always expect things to go the way they were described on online forums or in web articles, and understood the concept of 'expectations VS reality...'

But that didn't make the reality any better.

Because he had come prepared, right? They knew that this was going to suck, and they did what any good scholar would do in such a situation-- research. They had Googled it, had looked up 'what to expect when returning to work/school after a personal tragedy,' (because Googling 'after your Dad gets kidnapped' hadn't yielded any good results and Donnie figured it must have been too specific,) and he had read the WikiHow, the reddit forums, the Quora threads, and all the other articles in between. He had prepped!

But jesus christ. None of them had mentioned how much touching there was going to be.

So far he had been subject to no less than four overly emotional hugs that he had not consented to, (what were they emotional about, anyway?) eleven hand grabs-slash-squeezes, and so many shoulder rubs and gentle arm touches that he had lost count. And every single time, he had to resist the urge to shove them away. And every single time, the touch absolutely lingered, sticking to him like tree sap and covering him up like mushrooms and spores and burning him.

God. They hated this. Hated this, hated this, hated this. They were trying so hard to keep their mind focused, to concentrate on the task in front of them and the reason they were here, but their head was already all fuzzy and thick, feeling as though it had been stuffed full of fountain grass. Everyone kept coming up to them to talk to them, to say that they were so sorry to hear about their dad and if there was anything they can do and they hope things work out soon and blah blah blah, all these stupid, pointless, unpleasant emotions that they just kept dumping over his head until he was soaked and shivering and freezing cold, drenched down to his bones. The entire school was getting louder and louder by the second. Had the teacher's heels always clicked like that? And had the lights in the classroom always been so goddamn bright?

The kid behind him in his third period class popped their gum and Donnie stood up, grabbed his stuff, and walked out. 

He was pretty sure his teacher said something, but he was not even listening to her a little bit. Sorry, nope, nu-uh, not today, they were leaving, or else they were absolutely going to vomit. They had no idea where they were going but they just-- they had to be-- not here. 

 Please, just somewhere else. 

They quickened their pace through the hallways, eyes darting around, looking desperately for a place to just hide for a little bit, just somewhere else, because they were about to lose their mind. Their tongue was all thick and swollen and stuck to the roof of their mouth and their head was buzzing like it was filled up with wasps and their joints were all tight, like they had just run a marathon, like they were being chased-- they knew there was somewhere to go. He knew this. Come on, Donatello, think. You've studied the blueprints of the school. Calm down, focus-- where are you going?

One left and a right, third door from the left. Supply closet. This is where he’s going.

Donnie practically threw himself into the closet, yanking the door shut behind him, flicking off the lights, and sinking down to the ground, curling up into the littlest ball he could become and burying his head between his knees, because no, no, he’s not having a panic attack. Not right now. Not before he even makes it halfway through the day, goddammit, no, he’s fine. Everything is fine. 

It's... it's fine. Donnie swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut and wiggling his wrists back and forth, anxious and jittery, just barely tapping his knuckles against the sides of his head as he tried to focus on breathing. Yeah. No. Things were totally fine. He was not freaking out. He was not sitting here, absolutely fucking terrified that someone was going to burst in through the door looking for him any second now.

Nope. Not him. He was... all good.

Please, for the love of the known, observable universe-- and even the unknown, unobservable parts!-- just leave me alone. Just let it be quiet for a while.

He swallowed thickly, biting the edges of his tongue, fighting to settle. He pressed his shoulders up against the cold, hard metal door behind him, trying desperately to ground himself, to be here, in reality, and not float off and spiral. The sound of approaching footsteps just barely breached the protective net of his headphones, and he bristled, every muscle in his body tensing, poised to run-- only for his hackles to lower again when the sound passed on, walking past the closet without disturbing him. 

They’re gonna look for you, an unwelcome little voice in his head warned. Donnie frowned.

No, they’re not. It’s fine.

They are. You ran right out of class. Everyone already thinks you’re crazy even on a good day-- let alone today. They’re looking for you. They’ll find you.

People don’t think I’m crazy. They’re not looking for me. It’s fine. We-- we have time. We just need to calm down, and we’ll go back. They’re not gonna find us.

They will. They’re gonna show up any second.

They’re not. You don’t know that.

You don’t know that they won’t.

They won’t. It’s fine.

You don’t know. How could you know? There’s no way of knowing.

Things could still get worse!

They could be here any second!

You don’t know!

The click and clatter of metal-on-metal cut through Donnie the same way he imagined being stabbed would be like, and he absolutely froze. But to his surprise, the door didn’t fall away behind him. No harsh light or chiding voice invaded the space. Everything remained… just as it was.

So what was that noise?

After taking a moment to build up enough courage and clarity to give in to curiosity, he slowly unwound all his muscles, sitting up properly and looking around. And, in fact, it took almost no time at all for him to identify the source.

Looped firmly around the door handle was a small padlock that had most certainly not been there before, constructed entirely, it seemed, of violet light in a very familiar shade.

Fascinating... Did I make this?

Donnie leaned in to examine the item, running his fingers along the edges of it, investigating, testing it a few times and tugging at it lightly. It was a fairly primitive thing, from what he could tell, but it was most certainly doing its job, keeping the door firmly shut and not giving way when he pulled. Well. He supposed he was going to be in here for a while. Not that he really minded. Sighing deeply, he sat back down, pulling his bag off of his back and quickly retrieving his laptop.

Thank god. Data collection.

---

It wasn't that people weren't being nice. They were. Everyone was being super nice! Several of Raph’s teachers had taken him aside to tell him not to worry about any missed work or his grades right now. In every single class, classmates took the time to offer hugs and words of encouragement. Members of the football team and basketball team alike sought him out in the halls to present him with a Build-A-Bear gift card that they had all pitched in to get with a promise that they could all go out together whenever he was down for it. He had, admittedly, teared up a tiny bit.

It was really, really lovely. It was wonderful to know that so many people cared about him and were concerned about him.

So why did he still feel so awful?

Raph felt almost ungrateful, plodding through the school with this big weight on his shoulders, his entire frame feeling like it was rotting rapidly beneath his skin. He was absolutely surrounded by people; swaths and seas of them, and half of them knew him, half of them were concerned about him. So why did he feel like he was all by himself in a big empty cavern?

I wonder if the others are okay, he had thought.

Are people being cool with them, too?

But what if they are? Leo might not like it. He loves attention, but not that kind. It might freak him out. Donnie too.

What if people are giving Donnie hugs? He hates that. He'll be miserable. 

Are all their teachers telling them not to worry about their grades, either? Are Mikey's teachers letting him get off without make-up work? He already tries so hard with school as it is. What if he ends up having to do a bunch of extra on top of it all? 

And what if their grades slip? That's really important to Donnie. They're gonna be devastated if their GPA gets tanked.

Is April good? Is she getting overwhelmed? Are people asking her lots of questions? People aren’t pestering me so far for details, but what if they think it’s okay to pester April like that because she wasn't, technically speaking, a Hamato? She was. It wasn't okay. What if people were looking to her for answers?

What if this was a horrible plan?

Well, technically, it wasn't even your plan. It was Donnie's plan.

But it was your plan to use Donnie's plan! And you're the biggest brother. You're responsible.

Man, why the hell are you here right now?! You should be with them! You should be taking care of them!

Why? You've been with them all week, and the week before that, and ain't helped at all! 

Raph could feel a twitch developing in his eye, much to his annoyance. It did very little to soothe him as he moved through the day, and every five minutes, Mind-Raph asked, 'is it time to panic yet?'

He got through to nearly fourth period before the answer was yes, it is, in fact, time to panic. Not the ideal answer.

He wasn't even sure what set it off, actually. He only did about half the time, which was by far the most frustrating part, because when he didn't know he just felt like he was floundering blindly at nothing for no good reason. He had been in the hallway, moving between classes, a raindrop in the ocean of other students all doing the same thing, and some younger kid had darted past him, seemingly in a rush, sort of knocking into his arm-- maybe that was what did it. He wasn't exactly sure, because usually, that wouldn't bother him at all. 

It did today.

This didn't happen often, really, but every time it did, it was like, oh, great, here we go again, and he'd brace himself for the coming ride. Because it fucking sucked. The room was spinning and his legs were going out from under him and his chest was compressing and his throat was closing up and his eyes were fucking deteriorating in his head.

Not really. He was okay. He could still breathe, or, well, hyperventilate, at least. He was still on his feet, even if he was shaking.... But it wasn't like he could tell. Fuck. The world was ending, maybe? No, it wasn't. Get it together. Get a grip, Raph, it's fine, it's fine, it's fine, except no, it's not, I can't breathe, why can't I get a goddamn breath?! He hated doing this. 

People were still moving around him, and he grabbed the nearest locker he could get to as an anchor, pressing his palm against it as he tried to remember how to breathe. Cold. Smooth. Hard. Grounding, right? Donnie taught you this. He was vaguely aware of a few kids lingering, taking notice of his panic, touching his back and asking if he was okay. Raph didn't have it in him to speak right now, but he wanted so badly to snap at them to leave him alone. Couldn't they tell he was already using all of his energy to not completely lose it, flip out, and punch a hole through the wall? Again?! It had been a nightmare the first time when Dad had to deal with that, he did not want to put that on Mrs. O'Neil's plate.

"Hey, come on, back up, give him some room to breathe, would ya?"

This voice was loud enough that Raph could hear it over his own shuddering, and he shifted slightly, his eyes darting to the side. He knew this guy. Jason-- they skateboarded together sometimes. He was really good. He had a pet leopard gecko he had seen many pictures of. He was Mikey's age; more his friend than Raph's own, but regardless, he had been over to their apartment a few times. They weren't crazy close or anything-- but they were friends.

That was more than enough for him right now.

"You good, dude?" Jason said, softer now, leaning in towards Raph just a tiny bit, but still keeping his distance. "I mean-- do you want me to text your brothers or something?"

Raph squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard before giving a short shake of his head.

No. No, he'd be okay. He just needed a minute. He didn't want to make them all worry about this when they had a job to do. 

God, he just hoped that they were all having a better day than he was... and not getting themselves into any kinds of messes.

---

Mikey could feel hot blood splatter across his knuckles as his clenched fist made contact with Zach's nose, a satisfying crunch echoing through his hand, up his wrist, and then bouncing around in his ribs. The martial arts tournaments he competed in were great. He loved them, really. But they felt nothing like this.

Wait. Sorry. We're jumping ahead.

Was the first day back at school after nearly two weeks off stressful? Yeah, of course, it was. Mikey had been pretty jittery when he got to school this morning, dancing on his toes and fidgeting with his spinner ring, fussing with the beads in his hair, and worrying the corners of his lips between his teeth. But it actually hadn't been as bad as he had thought.

They had said they wanted to 'get back into the routine' to Mrs. O'Neil as an excuse to get her to let them come, but honestly, it was almost kind of good? Yeah, things were still weird, and he was still worried and scared, but it wasn't like with gymnastics. When he was at gymnastics, it just felt like they were there to be there-- just as an excuse to ignore what was going on and pretend like it wasn't happening.

But they were at school for a reason. They had a lead. And, more importantly, Mikey had a job to do. 

 He had latched on tight to his assigned task-- dug his fingers in like he was burrowing into clay, pressing in until his entire fist had sunk inside, and then took off running. Really, he liked being occupied. ADHD was a bitch sometimes, but today, the stars must have aligned because it was all systems go. He knew exactly what he was doing, and his brain was completely and utterly focused on this task. Yes, it was genuinely nice to see all his friends and teachers again after so long... but that wasn't the point. None of the fear and anxiety and stress was touching him right now because he had a job.

Because he loved getting to see Rebecca again and discuss how her hamster was doing at home, and because she was this deep, dark, rich turquoise color, ever so slightly bluer than it was green. And because getting to see his favorite teacher, Mr. Ovin, was great, and he was all sweet and reassuring, and he was a deep, warm gray, like fog in the summer. It was great because Timothy was indigo, just edging on violet. It was great because Dale was yellowy-orange like cantaloupe. Because Taylor was hot pink. Because José was golden-brown. Because Mona was midnight blue. 

 His list was already fifty-strong before they even hit lunch period, and Mikey was absolutely giddy. Yeah, baby! If this wasn't enough data to get them started, he swore he'd eat his own watercolor set. Surely this was, if nothing else, a good start, and he was already just chomping on the bit to tell the rest of his family. Donnie was gonna be thrilled, he was sure--

"Mikey!"

It was not the first time that day someone had yelled for his attention. In fact, the day had been absolutely littered with them-- Mikey could hardly take a step without someone looking to speak with him and check in with him now that he was in school. So he paused in his steps, his eyes chasing after the sound of the calling voice until he found Zach, dodging through throngs of students to make his way over.

"Hey, Zach!" Mikey greeted, offering a grin-- a genuine one, too, all wide and toothy. 

"Hey! Hey, Mikey. Uhhh. Good to see you back." 

"Thanks," Mikey replied. Not the first time he heard that today, either, but it was still nice to think that his absence had meant something to people. 

"Yeah, yeah. So, uh, do you have that commission done yet?"

Mikey blinked. 

"Commission?"

"Yeah! Yeah, remember, you were gonna do a portrait of Abby, for her birthday?" Zach laughed nervously. "I was kind of worried you were gonna miss it, you were gone so long, but--"

"No?"

"What?" Zach paused, his eyebrows raising, and Mikey frowned, hesitating a second before he found new words, quickly scrambling, re-evaluating, and re-writing.

"Uh, sorry," he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I don't have it done yet. I've kind of got commissions on hold right now? So... I dunno when it's gonna get done. Sorry, dude."

"... But her birthday is on Wednesday."

"Sorry," Mikey repeated.

"And I paid you in advance."

Mikey grit his teeth. Oh, yeah, paid him a whole twenty dollars in advance...? 

"Yeah, sorry, but--"

"Well, what am I supposed to give her?"

"I dunno. Figure something out?"

Oh. Oh, actually,

"What do you mean figure something out? I did! I paid you!"

Actually... Maybe the stress,

"Do you want your money back?"

Was still here, actually.

"No, I want my portrait! Do you know how pissed she's gonna be if I don't have anything to give her on Wednesday?"

His head was suddenly remembering how little he had slept over the past two weeks.

"That's really not my problem."

His eyes suddenly remembered how many tears they had shed.

"Dude, are you serious?!"

His throat remembered the ache of howling.

"Are you serious?! I dunno if you've heard, but I'm a little bit busy right now! Your girlfriend's birthday commission isn't really a priority right now!" Mikey snapped, feeling himself bristle.

"You've literally not shown up for school for two weeks, what do you mean busy!?"

"I'm not on vacation, Zach! I've been with my family!"

"For two weeks!?" Zach protested. "Look, dude, I'm really sorry your dad died, but this was really important to--"

Mikey froze.

"Excuse me?" He hissed. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Come on, Mike, this was really--"

"My dad isn't dead," Mikey whispered. His head felt all hot. He felt like a goddamn candle. The rest of his body was melting, but his head was just heat and nothing else. "He's missing. He's not dead."

"Okay, look, I didn't mean--"

Mikey shoved him. Not hard. But not soft, either.

"Leave me alone," he spat, and even though he was all heat, all bright reds and oranges and yellows, he felt his voice was cold and white like ice, like the month of December. Zach stumbled a bit, his mouth gaping dumbly like a fish, and Mikey watched and waited with absolutely bated breath to see how he would respond. Zach was a junior. He was a lot taller than Mikey was. Bigger, too. And his color was orange, too, Mikey noted in the back of his mind. Bright, dazzling, almost scarlet orange.

He could feel students nearby pausing, lingering, beginning to turn heads and slow their footsteps in order to watch and see what was going to happen.

Zach's face contorted with indignant fury, and he stepped forward to shove Mikey right back. Mikey let his body take the momentum with absolute grace-- let his feet be forced back a few steps, falling into stance once they found the ground again. He lowered his body slightly, squaring his shoulders, finding his center of gravity, and taking it in both hands. Suddenly, he felt very calm.

That was exactly what Mikey was hoping he would do.  

---

Jeez Louise, at this rate, I'm gonna give Taylor Martin a run for her money...

April was rapidly growing annoyed with the number of people who, up until now, didn't want anything to do with her, but were now suddenly quite concerned about both her well-being and the state of her brothers. She had gotten just about as many questions as she had condolences, which she had no idea how to receive. I mean, god, what's the appropriate response to people asking those kinds of things? Were they doing okay? Uh, I dunno, that's sort of a loaded question! 

She was also suddenly becoming uncomfortably aware of how many kids in their grade had a thinly-veiled crush on Raph, which she was not too pleased with. Like, good for him or whatever, (not that she thought he had the slightest clue,) but she didn't need to know all that, thank you! Yes, Melissa, I'll tell him you said hi, but don't you two have bio together!? Jeez! Stupid giant quarterback little brother...

April grumbled as she made her way into chemistry class, making a beeline to her usual seat and immediately laying her head down in her arms with a scowl. Maybe if she was lucky, people would get the hint and not bother her. Not that that had worked out so far...

"Bad day?"

April took a long, deep breath, and then slowly let it back out, picking up her head just enough to watch Sunita take her seat next to hers, offering a weak, sympathetic little smile in her direction. She had almost forgotten there was someone she actually liked in this class.

"Something like that," April said with a wry smile, wrinkling up her nose a bit before laying her head back down. "I know how this sounds, but I am soooo sick of people caring about me and my brothers."

"Uh oh... Kind of a lot, huh?" Sunita mumbled, wincing a bit, and April nodded a little, wrapping her arms around herself and frowning.

"I know people are just trying to be nice or whatever, but it's just... I dunno. Can you just let us breathe?! I hope they're not being this pushy with the guys because it's a lot for me and it's not even technically my dad, I mean, they're a total mess, I just--" She caught herself, biting her tongue. "Sorry. I'm just a little worried about them. And kind of annoyed," she admitted, rolling her eyes. "It's fine."

Sunita didn't respond right away, and when April glanced over at her again, there was this funny sort of expression on her face that April couldn't quite place. She frowned, about to say something, when Sunita nodded, biting the insides of her cheeks.

"Yeah. I get it. I mean. Gob. I can't imagine... I'm sure it must be stressful…"

April hesitated a second before she responded again. "It's a lot. But. You know. We're... handling it," she said, readjusting her glasses quickly. "Sorry. Can we just, like, talk about something else?"

"Oh! Right. Right, sorry, I'm being just as bad as everyone else!" Sunita gasped, her face flushing. "Sorry. Uh. What do you wanna-- uh-- did you… see the new episode of that barbecue show that just came out? I think Mikey would like it, uhm, they made some really bold choices..."

If April was being honest, she wasn't really listening. Sorry, Sunita. But she appreciated the white noise, at least, allowing herself to tune out for a while, scribbling black zig-zags and wriggles aimlessly in the margin of her notebook until class started properly. And, actually, even after class started properly. She was usually pretty focused at school and took her studies seriously. I mean, not as seriously as some people, but she got good grades! She just wasn't really feeling it today. Whatever. Her notes may suck, but at least she had something. She was sure Donnie could teach her whatever this was later. 

Class seemed to last a millennia, dragging along as April doodled and tried to keep her mind off of the rest of her family. God, she really hoped that this plan worked... if it did, it would be worth a million of these shitty school days. 

 She just really hoped that this wasn't for nothing.

She could see Sunita repeatedly giving her anxious, worried looks out of the corner of her eyes, fidgeting with her headband and frowning to herself. Honestly, she knew that their opening conversation had been a bit awkward, but it wasn't worth Sunita stressing over like this. Ugh. Maybe she should apologize or something later... It wasn't like she was mad or anything, she was just... tired.

 She was just really, really tired.

 April wasted no time at all in swiping her books from off the desk when the bell finally, blissfully rang, dismissing her from this class and shuffling the whole school on to the next. She didn't expect that the next class would be any better, but at least she'd be that much closer to the end of the day... Before she could get very far, however, she felt a hand clamp around her wrist.

 "... Sunita?" April questioned, raising a brow. "Uh. Is something wrong?"

"Yes! I mean. No! I mean. Oh..! Hang on, just... just... c'mere!" Sunita bit out, chewing nervously at her fingernails as she yanked April from the classroom, moving with such fervor that April nearly lost her footing, giving a surprised little yelp as she stumbled after the other.

 "Sunita! Whoa, girl, hang on!!! Where the heck are we going?"

 "Somewhere... else! Just, just, hang on! You've just gotta trust me, okay?" Sunita hissed, quickly ducking around a corner, all but shoving April into the first empty classroom that they found, hurriedly shutting the door behind her.

 "Wha-- girl, what is going on!?" April spluttered, looking around frantically. She really liked Sunita, but this had better not be her coming onto her or something, 'cause it was so not the time--

"I just-- oh, gob, I'm going to get in so much trouble. What am I doing?! This is so so so against the rules... Okay. Okay. Buck up, Sunita," the other girl squeaked, seemingly pep-talking herself, pacing out several rapid back-and-forth laps across the linoleum floor before she suddenly whipped around to meet April's eyes, grabbing her firmly by her shoulders.

"I know where Mr. Hamato is."

[ next ]

[strangestcase]

ok I know this might go unnoticed but if you pay close attention, you will notice Hyde has a characteristic speech pattern, talking in relatively short sentences, yet speaking formally, with proper vocabulary. we see this here in chapter nine, in which Hyde doesn't speak until he is safe in Lanyon's consulting room, and he spouts this:

but as he calms himself down, on Lanyon's insistence, and remembers his manners, and takes on a more gentlemanly range:

he now uses longer sentences with a more complex structure, to highlight that he is indeed the person Jekyll has sent to fetch the chemicals- you wouldn't send an idiot to do that, right?

and then, he does as Jekyll had promised: offering Lanyon the chance to discover what's really going on.

when this opportunity comes up, Hyde starts talking like Jekyll- his speech here is similar to Jekyll's writing style in the letters we had seen prior. it's not like this comes out of nowhere, since Jekyll had, since his introduction in chapter three, also used these more flowery turns of phrases, albeit in a more informal fashion, since he's talking to Utterson, face to face.

see? that's a pretty cerebral register

compare and contrast with Hyde's "definitive" introduction to the story in chapter two:

obviously this isn't some brainless idiot talking, but it's understandably more sparse. Hyde doesnt know Utterson- or more accurately, he's not supposed to know Utterson. how do you talk to someone you don't know? not with that same familiarity! the conversation that follows is also very sparse. even when Hyde's speech is paraphrased in Enfield's story, it is quick, grounded, and to-the-point. Hyde is a very intelligent person, and he knows how to modulate his speech depending on who he's talking to. people he doesn't know (or is pretending not to know) get short sentences, echoing phrases, monosyllables. people he WANTS to impress, people he WANTS to know who he really is and how smart he really is, like Lanyon in chapter nine, get a completely different thing. it's not like it comes out of nowhere because Hyde is a gentleman and like a gentleman he does talk, but it could come across as a surprise when you don't know the plot twist and assume Hyde always speaks that way.

when Lanyon replies to Hyde's sudden verbosity and says he doesn't understand him -which is fucking understandable-, Hyde digs his heels and carries on with the purple prose, and gloats in what I can only call a true mad scientist monologue... well, it's brief, but:

Since he's about to reveal his secret to Lanyon, there is no more need to pretend he's a simple delivery boy or whatever the hell Lanyon might think he could be. notice how he says "our profession", denoting he's a doctor as well, and how he talks to him as if he always knew him and knew his opinions, and didn't agree with him. no need to beat around the bush here, he must be thinking: I'm about to tell this guy I was Jekyll all along, so I no longer have to play the part of Hyde. he's dropped all pretenses. Hyde's more sparse dialogue might stem from a variety of factors (having to pretend to be someone else, modulating his speech to fit different situations, being more impulsive, dumbing himself down to avoid suspicion) but here they aren't a thing anymore, so he can just say whatever he wants, however he wants.

and here that entails talking like Jekyll.

so while to someone that doesnt know the twist this comes across as sudden and off-kilter (maybe as one of the many things making Hyde so strange?), to someone that does know it it's just a declaration of intentions... not a very nice one, but still! it sounds unsettling, having a character described as brutish and animalistic taking on a "smarter" range, as one would assume he would not be capable of that, but if you really think about it, that's not scary (also, what the fuck, dude, that's a pretty gross assumption to make!). what is really scary in the scene is not that Hyde apparently "becomes" smarter, it is that it's a small taste of what Jekyll/Hyde's "real" personality is like, and offers a glimpse of what the twist is going to be before it drops.

[cqlfeels]

hello fellow lqr fan!! do you mind sharing more about why you like lqr? he needs more love :)

Hello fellow fan! LQR does indeed need more love, and he deserves it, too!!!

Like every single character in this story, LQR is a hot mess in need of heavy duty therapy. Which, given I love would-make-a-therapist-quit 3zun, is obviously something I appreciate about him. I don't think he's processed the whole QHJ situation anymore than JC has processed the WWX situation, and oh boy does that influence how he raises the Jades. He's doing his best to be a good parental figure but there are so many unaddressed issues getting in the way of him being as good as this as he clearly wants to be. I say this because I often see people conflate his mistakes in raising the Jades with his entire being, which strikes me as a bit unfair since that's not generally how we treat anyone in the Sunshot generation.

But anyway, none of this is why I love him so much, I just wanted to get that out of the way.

The reason why I think he's profoundly underappreciated is mainly because he's so, so, so moral. You can't possibly accuse him of not doing his best to be as good a person as he knows how to be. It's fair game to disagree with his worldview, but very, very few characters are as earnest about their beliefs as LQR is. He sincerely believes with all his heart that the way he's living life is the most virtuous way and he does that not because he has any sort of agenda, it really is as simple as wanting to be a good person because being a good person is the most honorable of goals. He's not particularly after power or prestige or ego trips or an easy life. He knows being righteous is a narrow road and the work is never finished, but he tries as best as he can to stick to it with a sincerity that I find very touching. Compared to other people of his generation, there's something disarmingly pure about LQR. When he gets things wrong, you can be sure it's still coming from a place of good intentions. The only person I can think of who is as heartfelt and unwavering in their convictions is XXC, though of course, LQR is basically a Confucian scholar, while XXC is a follower of Daoism, and these two can be at odds.

Anyway, whenever I think of LQR, I'm reminded of the Analects 12.14-15, which one translation renders as

Fulfill your office untiringly, perform your duties with loyalty. . . . Once a junzi (1) has studied broadly in patterns and constrained them with li (2), indeed he will never turn his back on them.

(1) Junzi 君子 – often used to denote an ideally ethical and capable person; some-times simply meaning a power holder, which is its original sense.

(2) Li 禮 – the ritual institutions of the Zhou, of which Confucius was master; the range of behavior subject to the broad category denoted by this term rang-es from political protocol to court ceremony, religious rite to village festival, daily etiquette to disciplines of personal conduct when alone.

This is an extremely Confucian way of seeing the world and LQR is very intense about it. Once you have learned the way it is proper to act, it's unethical to turn aside from it. And after a lifetime of studies and reflections (which are different skills, both of which LQR is shown to regularly attend to), LQR is fairly sure he knows a fair amount about how it is proper to act, and he doesn't allow anything, be it external pressures or internal turmoil, to deviate him from these things. I don't think that's a particularly healthy or even wise way to live, but I can respect the hell out of him for his commitment to his understanding of his duty as a man, a scholar and a teacher. I just... Look, he's doing his best and he's genuinely trying to be a good person, and I don't know how to not find that admirable, whatever his flaws might be.

[apinchofm]

Writing prompt: Baldwin bringing Miyako to sept tours for the first time to meet his family. I am curious to see how they would react to the heir making his first child.

What a great prompt! Also, I saw a Toby Stephens fancast of Baldwin from this RP blog @balldwin, which definitely would've suited his vibes in this era.

1628

"What if they don't like me?" Miyako asked as the carriage stopped outside of Sept-Tours.

"You're family. They'll love you." Baldwin assured, squeezing her hand.

Philippe and Ysabeau met them outside. Her eyes widened. Sept-Tours was more beautiful than she had imagined. He helped her out and pulled her cloak higher onto her shoulders. She was sensitive to the colder climate of France.

"Father."

"Lucius." He pulled his son in for a hug, "It's been a while." Ysabeau kissed him politely on the cheek.

But both of their eyes were on the young woman slightly behind him. She was in a plain gown, her cloak with the ordinate pattern.

"Miyako, this is your grandfather," Baldwin introduced, "And his wife. This is my daughter, Miyako de Clermont."

"Seiur." She politely curtseyed towards the two of them, as Baldwin had taught, "Madame."

"She's very polite and you've been raising her?" Ysabeau smirked, "Very surprising."

"Well, unlike your offspring, mamon, she didn't need much home training." The two glared at each other as always before the matriarch turned to his daughter with a polite smile.

"Come with me child." Ysabeau ordered, but Miyako looked to her father, who nodded with a small smile before going with Ysabeau.

"I've sent word to everyone." Philippe said once they were in his office. Baldwin was expecting that and rolled his eyes.

"Did you have to?" Baldwin replied, annoyed but he knew that was the proper way. But Miyako, for all her wit and intelligence could be shy and well, his family were not.

"A child is a joyous occasion." Philippe said, "The entire family should celebrate."

"I thought you would be upset. You did forbid me to mate."

"A child won't compromise you. It will broaden your perspective of the world." Philippe said.

Baldwin wisely shut his mouth, holding back a smart comment about them ridding the world of blood-rage yet three of his siblings had it. Miyako was well behaved when he had turned her. He hadn't had to chase her into a local village.

"She's very young." Philippe pointed out. All of his children had been in their 20s and 30s when he created. Miyako was only 18, on the cusp of womanhood for eternity.

"I couldn't let her die." Baldwin said, "Too much potential. She's intelligent, well educated, and picks up things very quickly."

Philippe grinned, "I thought you would've made a son first."

"I wasn't the one ordered to stop making daughters." Baldwin replied, smirking, "And you and I both know women are just as, if not more capable."

"I like having a granddaughter." Philippe said, "How far along have you trained her?"

"She knows how to use a dagger effectively. Her mother left her a katana sword, which she's still learning how to use." Baldwin replied, "She speaks English, Japanese, Portuguese fluently and some French and Latin. She also loves to read, and strategy games."

"She won't be able to appear at court, due to her mixed parentage." She obviously favoured her mother. Only the Portuguese and the Spaniards had met those from that part of Asia ,"You should've told me." Baldwin tilted his head, trying not to get angry with his father.

"Her mother was Japanese, nothing to be ashamed of. She isn't here to be a spy." Baldwin replied, "She's my child. She will learn to defend herself, to lead or whatever she would like to do.”

"And what gives you the right to say so?" Philippe challenged.

"I'm her father." Is all he said. His father smiled proudly.

"Yes, you are."

Miyako on the other hand, was happily bonding with Marthe, who Ysabeau had delegated to caring for the child after showing her to her suite in Baldwin's tower.

It had been decorated for a lady of her status, with reds, pinks and blues. Gold was threaded in every blanket on the bed. He had sent silk from her homeland in advance to make the curtains on her bed.

Marthe was brushing her hair as she sat at a table, reading. She enjoyed her new library, thankful that her father had sent word for many, many books before they arrived.

"It's lovely having another young woman in the family. Too many men in this family." Marthe said and she smiled at the older vampire. She fiddled with a small golden pendant she had refused to take off in the bath.

"That's very pretty." Marthe said, then she looked closer. It was the God Mars imprinted in the round gold plate.

"Papa bought it for me." She said. Baldwin had given it to her when she was ten years old. He had always been the adult who'd play with her, engage with her.

Marthe raised an eyebrow surprised at the endearing term. Baldwin wasn't the affectionate type.

Ysabeau came in, several gowns in her arms, "We'll have to take you to a dress maker soon. Baldwin didn't send us your measurements. Still such a man."

"Thank you, grand-mere." Then her eyes widened. Was she supposed to call her that? Baldwin had said her cousin called her that sometimes, and she was still learning her French.

Ysabeau, however, smiled softly at the term, "You're welcome."

Ysabeau brought her down for dinner, where Baldwin was waiting to the entrance of the dining room. Miyako smiled when she saw him. He hadn't gone anywhere.

"How do I look?" She asked, lifting her arms slightly. She had been put in red and black off-shoulder gown, for wearing at home. Marthe had tied some of her hair back in a simple braid. He was pleased when he saw a gold de Clermont signet ring on her left pointer finger.

She was a de Clermont. The heir to Philippe's heir.

"Beautiful." Baldwin complimented proudly.

A month later, all of the de Clermonts had finally arrived, all eager to meet their new niece. Miyako had spent most of her time educating herself better on parts of European society, and enjoying the vast library. Baldwin had taken her out for a hunt and she found she really liked fox's blood.

"I can't believe Lucius has made a child." Gallowglass commented, sipping on his wine. Even he had come home, once he heard.

"So that's why you've come home?" Godfrey smirked, "Curiosity." He was rather excited to meet his new niece.

The Scotsman shrugged, "It's not everyday I get a new cousin. Last thing I expected was for the gladiator to make one."

Matthew scoffed, "She could be a cruel little thing." Baldwin creating a child was a nightmare.

Godfrey smiled, "I doubt it." He knew Baldwin the longest, and Hugh had always told him that deep under his cruel and hard surface was a kind, protective man. He had experienced it, so had everyone else in the family, whether they knew it or not.

The two finally arrived into the ballroom, Baldwin escorting his daughter proudly. He was smiling gently at her, which startled his siblings. He didn’t smile outside of war.

"Hello, I'm your uncle Godfrey." He kissed both cheeks politely.

"This is your uncle Matthew." Baldwin introduced and his brother nodded politely in her direction. He had mentioned to his daughter that they weren't close, but she smiled kindly at him.

Gallowglass was perhaps the most welcoming, pulling her in for a hug and a kiss, which she accepted happily. Baldwin had told her stories of her uncle Hugh, and she was sad she didn't get to meet him, but at least she had a cousin.

"Call me Gallowglass." Gallowglass smiled, "I have to say, it's nice having a cousin, I'm no longer the youngest."

"Well, I hope we can be both friends and family." Miyako said, and she meant it.

Then came the aunts.

Anastasia was excited and had brought presents and clothes for her niece. She could tell by her brother's protective stance he loved this child as his own, and not a new chess piece for Philippe.

"She's an fragile little thing." Verin smiled sharply. She then pulled out a small dagger and threw it.

Baldwin growled at his sister but Miyako had caught the knife with ease, holding the blade. She flipped it and threw it back, so that it landed in the tapestry behind Verin's head.

"No, I am not." She replied politely. Her aunt looked at her, reluctantly impressed.

"She is Baldwin's child." Freyja smirked.

[nostalgebraist]

You mention a lot that what people find impressive about Frank isn’t what’s impressive. I know next to nothing about coding and find it ALL impressive; what are the actual advanced things frank can do?

(for an example of me saying this, see this post and its tags)

The main thing that's "actually impressive" is the most basic thing Frank does: generate text.

Specifically, text that is almost always grammatical. Text that is often coherent. Text that is often factually accurate when it refers to specific facts. Text that is stylistically/topically diverse, and usually accurate in mimicking the way people talk about many different topics in many different styles.

This is a very recent and sudden development, starting with GPT-2 in February 2019. If you went back to 2017 or 2018, and told me bots would be writing like this very soon, I would have said "oh no way, that's science fiction, this is light years beyond anything we can do now."

Here's a long post I wrote on this topic.

I do semi-regularly see people doubting that Frank is a bot at all, which I suppose counts as being impressed by this capability, in a way.

But that's a little different: there are people who don't think bots can do this, and people who say "ok, I guess bots can do this" and accept that as the new normal. I think AI people are more in an intermediate state of "yes, bots can do this now... and that's mindblowing, even after 2 years of it."

----

I don't think that fully addresses the difference, though. There's another thing.

When other people are impressed by Frank, and I'm not, typically

Frank is doing something they've never seen her do before

But, I know that thing is really easy

An example is constructing correct, on-topic links to web pages that were linked many times in the training data. Or to Wikipedia pages.

Like, a Wikipedia URL has a simple format, and the model has seen thousands of Wikipedia URLs. If you've seen thousands of things that look like "https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zillow" or "https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carolingian_dynasty", it's not too hard to guess that the page for "virus" is at “https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virus”.

Much simpler models from many years ago could learn very simple patterns like these.

Whereas, if you think about English grammar, it's a much more complicated pattern, or interlaced collection of patterns, with many weird special cases. Making the subject and verb of a sentence agree with each other is much harder than making a Wikipedia link; it's a more complicated pattern. And that pattern is just one of many ingredients that go into writing a single grammatical sentence! Literally every time Frank writes a grammatical sentence, it's a more impressive feat than the Wikipedia links.

When Frank does something that impresses me, it's usually something that I haven't seen before (or not often), and that I know is hard.

An example is when she will occasionally write mostly-grammatical text in French or Spanish. Another example: she often teaches me new things, by referring to proper nouns I've never heard of. Some of the time she's just making it up, or the thing is real but not on-topic. But often she's saying something that turns out to make sense, about an aspect of the real world I had never heard of.

The model has a vast amount of this kind of approximate factual knowledge, and there's no way to really know how deep it goes in which directions. So, I'm continually impressed as I see new facets of it.

[thecopynin-kakashi]

"Mm...the patrols might take a new turn based off the fact Danzo knows I'm familiar with their usual routes. My assumption is he will pull numbers closer to him, perhaps send tracking patrols out to try to pick up my trail, but he's not going to cast out loose numbers for me to pick off. He knows better than that."

But then who was to say he wouldn't? An ANBU here and there to keep Kakashi from getting proper rest--it was a mind game he was certainly capable of playing. Fodder to toss in hopes of weakening the threat on his own life. Sickening as it was to think about, it fit his usual structure.

"I alternate these locations every two days, but in no particular pattern. What I will start doing to check in with you easier, is this."

He lowers his hand and stars three different areas, the center of which converge on a small opening in the map. It was a tall bare hill, the only inhabitant being a large rooted tree that nearly hangs off the edge.

"It's a popular lookout spot, one I often enjoy myself. If it's ever vacant, you can find me there just after sunset."

Iruka watched a little fascinated. He'd already seen Kakashi without the mask and he knew it was back on because it was freshly washed and Kakashi had been running around outside. But now that he was inside and eating, he'd gone back to insisting it stayed on, even between bites. It fascinated him for some reason. Kakashi had some off quirks, he noted, smiling a bit to himself before he had to focus.

He leaned over to get a better look.

A map made to look like he was just surveying the area. Best places to fish. Where certain trees were. It was smart and once again Iruka was hit with the realization that Kakashi trusted him. He trusted him with this information. His safety. His recovery. He couldn't ruin the trust that was placed in him and he wouldn't. He would protect this information with his life, if he had to.

He'd keep the map in a safe place, on him in a scroll that only he could get out.

"Thirty meters north for each of them. Alright. Easy to remember. Do ANBU do regular patrols out there?"

[soukokuwu]

hi there! hope ur doing well esp in times like these. i must say i absolutely adore ur writing. both the chuuya angst fics literally made me cry. i never cried to any other fics before. it was amazing. may i request an angst scenario where Dazai has an s/o & a person from his past (from his port mafia days) wanted revenge on him. now Dazai is incredibly smart & manipulative & they know that (impossible to kill) so they go after s/o & kills them. i hope i'm not bothering u. have a nice day/night.

something left unguarded.

     genre. angst (dazai x reader)      warnings. death, kidnapping/implied assault      synopsis. there are times when dazai wishes he’s dead. this is one of those times.      word count. 1.8k      author notes. hi kitty! sorry this took me ungodly long, and i’m not sure if this is what you were looking for but i hope it’s okay!! <33

there’s some unspoken things that come together with love.

for dazai, that’s the slow crumbling of his walls; the surrendering of firearms. he finds himself unfurling easily at the seams, and regarding what seems impossible for the vast majority, it’s like white on rice for you. best thing is? it comes easy, effortless. you don’t try to be someone you’re not; dazai can tell. you are just unapologetically, undoubtedly you. that’s the beauty of it all, to him.

never has he felt like this, in the crack of dawn, lying next to you on the bed, the distant sounds of the birds and your breathing is all he can hear. it’s weird — he used to hear so many voices in his head, so many conflicting ones telling him to kill himself and yet others telling him to stay because there’s bound to be something that makes him want to live.

the latter is right. because now look at him. he’s not hearing whispers in his mind, the condescending, doubtful voices are gone. it’s peace.

all that fills his thoughts are you. who was he, even, before he met you? he knows, he always knows, he’s mostly self-aware. but then, he doesn’t want to. doesn’t want to remember the person he used to be, because he loves who he is now, with you. do the voices come back sometimes? absolutely. but a minor interaction with you and he feels tranquililty. and he has no doubt that you are the only one capable of such a feat.

he always thought fear was the accompaniment of walls breaking down. why did you make him feel like it was liberating instead? is it just the impossible amount of trust he’s put into you? he doesn’t have to ever ask himself anything, never does he ever feel like he needs to doubt you. ever.

you’re a peculiar little thing, always doing what you think is best for him. you rarely ever do think of yourself, do you? that’s why dazai takes it upon himself to give you what you deserve, a wholesome, warming kind of romance, even if he isn’t so sure about it himself. dazai doesn’t know romance apart from those that’s raved about in books and movies. his whole life is an endless pit of darkness — that’s up ’til the point he met you, of course.

so if the novel, theatric kind of love is the only form of romance he knows, then the least he can do is give you that.

dazai turns and watches as you rest peacefully, weaving his fingers through your hair, appreciating the patterns of your chest rising and falling. how long has it been since he’s first watched you like this before you wake? he doesn’t really recall the exact number of days, but it’s around three years? and he can definitely deal with a lot more than this.

talks about the future has always been taboo for him. not that he hates it, but it’s because he can never feel excited about it. and frankly, it’s much more of a chore than anything. so now, catching himself actually envisioning a future with you? it feels surreal.

the two of you have a routine: wake up, make breakfast, kiss goodbye before work, actually work, come home, have dinner, maybe take a bath together before you go to bed. it’s habitual by now — everything on the list. and while the morning is no different, the afternoon definitely is.

first there is the anonymous letter he finds in his top desk drawer. nothing but a blank paper with a single ominous line of “this is for back then”. nothing else. just a single line written in blood red ink. the weretiger next to him seems a little freaked out by it, so it’s easy to tell that whoever did this made the effort to come in earlier than anyone to place this in his desk. and maybe they expected to elicit some other behaviour from him. distress? fear?

whatever it is though, it doesn’t get to him. he crumples it up and tosses it in the bin. (he misses it, but it’s not like he cares.)

he goes the rest of the afternoon in ignorant bliss. he texts you halfway though, asking if your lunch today was any good.

would be better if you were here, osamu.

dazai forgets for just a moment that you usually only type out osa. because that’s what you do to him sometimes — you make him let his guard down. he wastes no time replying you.

oh yeah, why’s that, darling? ;)

the next message that chimes in has his heart take a deep dive into the ground below him. it’s a picture. of a vile, disgusting man licking the side of your head, with you tied up to a chair, unconscious.

because then maybe she won’t be so boring like this.

not even bothering to explain, all dazai does is grab atsushi by the collar and drag him out of the agency. he’s the only combative one present currently, and frankly, if it comes to a fistfight, having him there is enough. of course, dazai is not planning to spare anyone. they dared touch you?

they’re as good as dead.

dazai never thinks letting his guard down is a crime. but he thinks the ultimate sin he’s committed? that he let himself slack on his guarding of you. because the moment he gets to you at your apartment, he realises it’s never been a race against time. the moment the picture was sent, you were already gone.

and the culprits are long gone, disappeared without a trace. except for the disgusting wet track of where his tongue traced your skin earlier. usually, dazai would go after them immediately, track them down and plan their demise.

it would have been his plan. had you been just another body, another death count. but you’re not. you’re his lady, his angel, his life. yet you’re lifeless now, your chest doesn’t rise up and down like it should. your body is dense, somewhat dry. it’s completely… not you.

atsushi doesn’t know what to do, he stands in the corner with his eyes trained on his superior who’s letting out more emotion than atsushi thinks he has in his entire life. he feels like he should console him somehow, but he knows that’s selfish thinking. dazai won’t appreciate that.

he’s right. dazai won’t. because the only person capable of giving him any sliver of hope in this god-forsaken world is gone. her body but an empty vessel, reminding him of who he once was and how he had longed to be.

and oh, how he longs to join you now.

worst part is? dazai can find no one to blame. no one but himself. not even the man who offed you. dazai recognises him, from way back in his port mafia days. which means there’s no one to blame but the person he once was, the one you made him feel like he and reprieve from.

until now.

losing you is his punishment, isn’t it? for everything he’s done. this is his judgement day and you’re another one of his sad victims. it’s your body, limp in his arms, eyes wide open and the complete stillness of it all.

and he realises maybe this is what people mean when they talk about ‘deathly silence’. he never thought that losing just the sound of your breathing would feel like this and yet here he is, with another casualty in his arms.

yet another soul he can’t save.

and dazai… despite all his attempts, is still alive.

it’s cliche, but it’s true.

the worst day of loving someone is the day you lose them.

except when they’re still around, it’s easy to take every moment for granted. because who, when they think they have everything, will think of the moment they’d lose it? sure, it may come in glimpses, but you never hover over it long enough for it to actually matter.

until it happens.

cups of hot chocolate and cuddling up to each other in the winters. words of affirmation and warmth bubbling inside chests. security of routines and safety of arms.

dazai can’t stop thinking of things that remind him of you. thinking of the good times like you’re still alive is the only thing that keeps him from breaking as they lower you into the ground.

you’re almost in there and all he can think about is the first time he tells you he loves you, the first proper time he lets his guard down. how you were on the couch with your legs tucked against your chest, misty eyes giving away just how much the whole situation means to you. you see, he always knew you had a fear of falling, but he never knew just how much, until that moment.

“you click your tongue whenever something annoys you, you subconsciously like to walk between the lines on tiled floors, you blame yourself for things that are out of your control,” dazai had told you. and he remembered the look in your eyes — that surprise, that gratefulness — because you never thought that anyone would spare you that much attention, did you? especially not him, who you knew would never spend time on anything that’s unimportant.

but he paid attention to you more than anything else.

“i love you, belladonna,” he had assured you, inching close and holding you in his arms. you always needed reassurance, and while dazai would usually think it’s a burden, nothing was when it came to you. “you may think you’re a mess, but i think you’re perfect.”

he lets your giggle be the last thing that fills his mind as they finally lowered you into the ground. and he doesn’t wait for it to be filled before he spins around and walks away. the next memory he remembers being a promise made. of how you told him not to do anything rash should you ever go first, not even in old age. (he thought it was cute how far ahead you thought of for the future — something he finds he needs now; a future with you.)

and that’s the thing about letting your guard down; you let them have a slight control over your decisions. because now, despite every bone in his body aching to throw himself off a cliff, he finds he can’t quite do so. why? he remembers the life in your eyes when he agrees to that promise, the absolute faith you have in him that he loves you that much to abide by your one wish for him. yet in his head a constant question beckons him, chants itself in his mind like a mantra.

i just want to join you, is that so wrong?

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @animatedarchives

[mbti-notes]

Hi. I'm an ENFJ and I think i'm having trouble dealing with the fact that i'm not a very pleasant person to be around. I'm always negative and moody and never really want to be in social situations, at least for their own sake. I don't like what i've become, i'm judgmental and negative and I worry I bring everyone else down. That or I end up being really quiet and that also just makes things awkward and annoys people. Either way, I don't know if i'm gripping or just ruminating but I end up

[con’t: obsessively reading different self-help things, depending on what my current theory is about the problem. I don’t read them for their own sake, and I never end up getting anywhere with them because even if i’m right about whatever is causing my moods I don’t actually care. Anyway, how should I go about dealing with this insecurity and guilt caused by this, and insecurity in general because this is a habit of mine I keep getting into regularly and I don’t want to feel bad anymore. Thanks!]

This is pretty typical Ti grip stuff. You claim that you “don’t care” but then you go on and on about how much you care about everything, how you fail, how guilty you feel, how bad you feel, etc etc. Stop lying to yourself. Do you care or don’t you? 

How can you possess the right mindset to develop good relationships when you don’t care about the things that you should be caring about, such as your own well-being and the well-being of others (Fe)? Or, if you do in fact care, then why don’t you show, through proper action, that you care? If you cared about yourself, you’d DO things to love and care for yourself. If you cared about others, you’d DO things to take care of them, and this would go a long way to making you more pleasant to be around. 

These are not mystical secrets, are they? They are simple practical matters but you keep turning them into grand moral and existential statements about your worth as a human being or the worth of your life. Worse, whatever idea, feeling, intuition, judgment, thought pops into your mind in the moment, you believe that it is absolute truth and just go with it, so you constantly get caught in logical contradictions because you are incapable of zooming out to consider the bigger picture of what it is you are trying to do - and this requires auxiliary Ni development as proper introspection will counter compulsive/intrusive/impulsive thought patterns. 

You don’t want to feel bad anymore? What’s wrong with feeling bad? Does it mean you’re a terrible person when you feel bad? Feelings and emotions are not “bad” things, why must you try to suppress them and in turn suppress your true self? Until you can fully embrace your feelings and emotions, you will not be capable of the self-acceptance that is necessary for good emotional intelligence.Self-help doesn’t work when it is motivated by self-loathing - having some flaws (practical problems to be solved) is not the same thing as being hopelessly flawed (morally weak/irredeemable). 

[dgcatanisiri]

I personally lean in to a “mix of things” idea - I see Section 31 as having roots in the pre-Federation world, where a group of Starfleet officers were willing to take that broad discretionary ability in the charter and turn it in to their secret organization, probably with backdoor assistance from early admirals, who were mildly xenophobic due to the Vulcans being seen as hindering human development.

During the Discovery era, they had a more organized presence, especially during the Klingon-Federation War - that proved a lot of what they were doing as seemingly correct, and they proceeded to gain traction in Starfleet to where they were more powerful than before. Then Control happened and... Well, we’re still due that Georgiou/Section 31 series (they’re saying one in-progress show, which likely means PIcard, needs to wrap before that launches, so we’re looking at a couple of years right now), so we’ll see, but my guess is that put things on the backburner. The organization split up, breaking back in to cells that could operate independently of one another, disavow one another if caught, etc.

Also a lot of their activities during the war end up getting attributed to traditional Starfleet Intelligence.

I'm of the opinion that, circa DS9, 31 is somewhere between the two styles - with the events of TNG through DS9 (and all the way through Nemesis), there’s probably a growing sense among Starfleet/the Federation that the Federation is at a distinct disadvantage when it comes to the threats in the galaxy, the other major powers - the Tal Shiar and Obsidian Order are major players, and then the Obsidian Order gets wiped out by the Dominion, there’s suddenly a gap in the espionage world, and Starfleet Intelligence is hampered by the Federation’s own laws, so 31 begins expanding, recruiting, arguing that, in a galaxy where the greatest powers surrounding the Federation are Empires looking for dominion (pun DEFINITELY intended) over the galaxy, with the looming Borg threat, they can’t operate simply by the rules.

As for Bashir, I don’t know if they think of him are necessarily “right” for spying. But they see a genetically enhanced individual who is allowed to live openly and freely as a useful asset. ESPECIALLY, I would think, after an episode like “Statistical Probabilities,” where Bashir was ready and willing to buy in to the idea of “the Dominion will overwhelm the Alpha Quadrant powers, our best option is surrender and allow the next generation to be able to resist.” Bashir is a man who is driven, but is still, genetic enhancements all the same, capable of being misled.

It’s a combination of Bashir’s own intelligence and optimism - BECAUSE he is so smart, he CAN be misled, at least for a time. Just look at Inter Arma Enem Silent Leges, where Bashir ends up doing exactly what 31 wanted. BECAUSE he can be relied on to do the right thing, BECAUSE of his morals, and BECAUSE of his genetically enhanced mind, he believes he can move steps ahead of the “non-enhanced” members of 31 (though it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that there are 31 agents who are also genetically enhanced - another one of those rules that 31 may well have decided to disregard). And because of that, he ends up letting himself be manipulated, because he believes he’s too smart to be manipulated that way. Or at least, that was the result in the course of the series proper - afterwards is up in the air. Because I do believe that, at some point, it would reach a point where he’d recognize his own patterns of behavior and start trying to act counter to his default. We just never reached that point within the series proper.

I don’t particularly care for a lot of the hypothetical season 8 developments, but, in the defense of the novels, I will point out that Bashir joining there was specifically in the name of destroying it from within, and also came on the heels of a lot of ongoing novel line plots, since this was taking place ten years post-Dominion War, so A Lot has happened with events, specifically the fact that Bashir stole classified data, leading to him being court-martialed and dishonorably discharged (another instance of him doing the right thing over the “legal” thing). He joins with the specific intent and desire of taking 31 down from the inside, rather than taking it over.

So, Section 31, as introduced in DS9, raises two questions: What is Section 31, really? And why does Section 31, a supposedly competent intelligence agency, want Dr. 'What is subtlety?' Julian 'Can someone please explain this conversation to me?' Subatoi 'I am going to tell all my friends' Bashir as their secret agent spy?

For the first, I can see four potential answers:

1. Exactly what Sloan says. Super secret spy group that operates autonomously since the birth of Starfleet, keeping the Federation safe and essential to its survival.

2. Accounting for Enterprise while limiting the power/importance DS9's Section 31, it was a thing in pre-Federation Starfleet, then kinda stopped being a thing (to account for Discovery, there's your explanation why, how, and when), and now Sloan (and maybe buddies) are trying to bring it back because Dominion War and/or Borg.

3. Section 31 is more of a concept or idea than an actual group. Basically, something in the charter is worded kinda vaguely and it isn't unknown for unscrupulous members of Starfleet to take that and run with it to do whatever they want. I guess sometimes these people gang up to a certain extent, but it's not any sort of formal, organized group.

4. It's literally just Sloan. Probably largely what Koval says in "Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges". Does potentially cause some continuity issues with "Extreme Measures", but there are ways to wriggle around that.

And for the second, why Bashir, I see three options:

1. Exactly what it looks like. They want a spy, and think that Bashir, with all his genetic enhancements, would be perfect. For some reason, they legitimately think that he would make a good secret agent.

2. It's all just setup for "Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges". Bashir is being manipulated into being a simple tool to accomplish the one precise goal the one time. Any objections he has or whistleblowing he does are irrelevant because his objections are what is being used to manipulate him into accomplishing that goal, and since it is only one or two impossible to prove events, his whistleblowing looks like just hot air.

3. Sloan wants to get into Bashir's pants.

It seems like options 1 and 1 are the intended and most common reading, but, quite frankly, I for one think that the other options open the door for more interesting storytelling.

Also, there's no way Bashir would join Section 31, novel writers and hypothetical season 8 writers.